


within grasp

by orro



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Legacy: A Victurio Anthology, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 19:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orro/pseuds/orro
Summary: “You and I are going on a date,” Victor announces as Yuri walks into the rink.“Say that again,” Yuri says, his coffee still in hand. It’s too hot to even chance a sip but he’s struck by the urge to down it all anyway.“You’ve gotten boring, Yura,” Victor says and he probably means to say it kindly. Yuri still scowls as he throws his backpack onto the nearest bench and glares at his shoes as he shoves them off. “It’s not an Olympic year, not a pre-Olympic year, and you might not make it to the Olympics in 2026 if you get injured between now and then. “You’re on your way out and we need a way to keep you in the headlines. At this rate they won't send you to the Olympics. And if that happens then you might as well retire. We both know you don't want that."





	within grasp

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Victurio Legacy Zine. Thank you mods for all your hard work!

“You and I are going on a date,” Victor announces as Yuri walks into the rink. 

“Say that again,” Yuri says, his coffee still in hand. It’s too hot to even chance a sip but he’s struck by the urge to down it all anyway. 

“You’ve gotten boring, Yura,” Victor says and he probably means to say it kindly. Yuri still scowls as he throws his backpack onto the nearest bench and glares at his shoes as he shoves them off. “It’s not an Olympic year, not a pre-Olympic year, and you might not make it to the Olympics in 2026 if you get injured between now and then. The way Dmitri and Anton are skating means they should be good contenders for medaling and with Daniil, Fedor, and Kirill getting ready to move up to seniors you might not even get picked.” 

“Like fuck I wouldn’t,” Yuri says, but Victor doesn’t even acknowledge his interruption. 

“You’re on your way out and we need a way to keep you in the headlines. At this rate they won't send you to the Olympics. And if that happens then you might as well retire. We both know you don't want that. 

Yuri gives up his angry lacing to stare at him, mouth hanging open. It's partly because he hasn't even drank his coffee yet and partly because of what Victor is saying. He says it so casually, like this is the clear next step and solution.

He wonders if this is Victor’s streak of genius or madness. The two overlap so often, and he doesn't blame Yakov for going bald. No one wants to be the one to stand in the face of genius especially when he’s so well-known and loved. Yuri wants to be the one that no one stops. But he's not there yet. And in the darkest corners of his heart he wonders if he'll ever become that when Victor has already taken that role so thoroughly.

Yuri is tempted to throw his coffee onto the ice so that he can kneel down and eat it. He desperately needs the caffeine for this conversation and that might be the quickest way to get it into his system at this point.

“Okay, rewind and explain it to me again. Can't I date any old floozy? Why does it have to be you?”

“Am I not pretty enough for you anymore?” Victor says it with a too flirty smile, practiced and fake. Yuri doesn't like seeing it directed at him. Luckily Victor drops the look and the tone after a moment. “It's really simple, Yura. We need you in the headlines. We need people talking about you. If you were just dating a random prostitute or some other slut that would be gossip. if you are dating me people will be speculating.”

“Speculating about what?” He has a pretty good idea but he wants to hear It from Victor. 

“About your chances for the next year, of course. What kind of skating will he provide now that he's dating his choreographer and effective coach? Now that the Russian Tiger is in bed with the Living Legend what will they accomplish for Russia?” Victor pauses and presses a finger to his lips. “Obviously we won't actually be in bed together. And we'll be able to explain after that we've never actually consummated the relationship. It's not perfect, mind you. But at the end of the day there's no way that I could fuck talent into you.”

“This all sounds stupid,” Yuri says. “I've always let my skating speak for itself. Why isn't that good enough anymore?”

“Because you're getting old,” Victor says bluntly. He's not smiling. There's something dead in his look and it gives Yuri chills as if Victor speaking from experience. Victor has an uncanny ability to pull terror from the depths of his soul, from the very nook and crannies that Yuri fights so hard to keep his fears curled up in. “There are new skaters, new and fresh and hungry for the podium. I don't know why I have to explain that to you. You know this. You're not a fool Yuri.”

“I'm still winning-”

“It doesn't last.” Victor smile has returned but Yuri knows it for the fake that it is. He shivers and it isn't from the ice or the air conditioning. “What lasts is making a record, making an impression, making some kind of history. And you haven't done that yet. This is your last chance. Do you want my help?”

When he phrases it like that there's really only one answer.

“Pick me up at six,” Yuri says, his voice thick and heavy. 

#

Victor shows up at his apartment almost forty minutes late. Yuri has been boiling for the last hour though really he's been simmering all day ever since he talked to Victor. He opens the door with as much force as possible, a little upset that he can't slam it open.

“Where the fuck have you been? I've been waiting for you.”

“We have paparazzi expecting us. There's no point in being earlier or on time if we want to be noticed. Come on. I'll explain more in the car.” Victor jangles his keys and Yuri grits his teeth as he follows him.

“I've been texting you. Why didn't you answer?”

“Because I was setting up our date,” Victor says. He unlocks the door and Yuri gets in, half-heartedly thinking that he should have made opened the door for him. But then there's no audience around right now. “I had to leak out that I was going on a date tonight. And then I had to leak out that you were going on a date tonight. I don't think anyone has put it together yet. Maybe a few people but not the kind of people that we usually want to appeal to. But they'll figure it out after tonight.”

“Wow, yeah, clearly you have such a packed schedule,” Yuri grumbles, folding himself in the front seat of the car. He hates this thing. Victor used to drive cool stuff and then he got old and boring. Now he's had this car for the past five years. Maybe it's been eight years. As old as Victor is he's kind of timeless in a really annoying way.

“I know you're not happy about this—”

“I still don't really get how this is a good idea. I can't believe Yakov agreed to this. Do you want to just fuck me? I feel it would have been easier just to fuck me. If you just want to have sex we can do that.” Yuri pauses. “Wait, that makes it sound like I want to have sex with you. I don't want to. You're old and gross.”

“I always appreciate your blunt honesty,” Victor says with a wry grin. “But look, I did ask Yakov about this. And I even asked your current coach even though I knew he would say yes. And they both think I'm crazy. But they see my point. And you don't like it but I know you see it too.”

Yuri thinks he's about to say that they're similar and if Victor does he's going to jump out of the car. He'll break both of his legs if that happens. It's still a more appealing option than listening to Victor say that. They're not alike. Yuri is his own person. Viktor Nikiforov is dead and done. Yuri is Russia's figure skating champion now and he has earned that title all on his own.

He pulls out his phone and glares at it as he types instead, knowing that it bothers Victor when he doesn’t pay attention to him. Sure enough, Victor huffs in annoyance.

“This is about your career. You should be paying attention to me right now.” Victor says.

“I am paying attention,” Yuri says in a snide tone. It's not mature but Victor doesn't deserve it; he worked hard to grow up and now he knows when he can get away with being a brat.

“I'm trying to set parameters so that you feel more comfortable about this,” Victor says. “Obviously we won't be having sex. There's no paparazzi inside of my apartment. But I do want to be able to do things like hold your hand or put my arm around you in a hug without you freaking out in front of everyone in ruining the charade.” 

“You need to go find yourself a sugar baby or something. I don't know why I have to get involved in your stupid sicko fantasies.” Victor bursts out laughing. “What?”

“You are far from my fantasies,” Victor says with a chuckle. “I'm not doing this for me. This is all for you. We all want to see you at the next Olympics taking the gold. That's what you want too right?”

Victor parks at the restaurant and wait for him to answer, looking at him like he already knows what Yuri is going to say. They both know that. The question is how much is Yuri willing to go along with it.

“Don't ask stupid questions,” Yuri says after swallowing. He's not like Victor, slick and media ready at the drop of a pin. He's older but age can only work so many miracles. He gives his manager nightmares about public relations and the media. Some of it works, because he can claim that he's the Ice Tiger of Russia. But it doesn't work for everything and it gets Yuri into trouble.

Yuri has never been to this restaurant before, even though Victor has taken him out plenty of time. He tries to remember the last time Victor took him out. It happened slowly, as he grew up, so he doesn't really remember it other than vague memories. He always liked it, because it seemed like Victor was taking him serious, like he was treating him like an adult. 

He think that's part of why he's so resistant to this idea. Victor has been a part of his life for so long, he doesn't even know how to describe him in it. But lovers is probably not the first thing he would have thought. 

Yuri forces himself to sit in the chair, glad that Victor doesn’t make a big show out of pulling his chair out for him. The asshole would probably do something like that. Victor slides into his own chair and pulls out the menu, and Yuri isn't surprised to find that it doesn't have prices on it. He might scream at Victor for that alone cause that means that Victor is picking up the tab. If this is for Yuri’s career then Yuri should be handling the brunt of the expenses.

“You can choose the restaurant for next time, or for the next couple of times, whichever you prefer,” Victor says. “But I wanted to choose this place because I knew the paparazzi would come here. And I want to give them a show tonight. Our other dates can be more low-key if you want.”

“Yeah sure whatever.”

Victor huffs a little, smiling at him in some weird doting fashion that’s super annoying but he can't quite pinpoint it. Actually it's more like he can't find civil words to describe how much he hates it. There's plenty of ways he could say it.

He knows he's being awkward but he can't bring himself to talk normally, knowing that there's probably already people watching them and trying to listen. But there doesn't seem like Victor is bothered by it. He nods his head and grunts appropriately as Victor holds the conversation by himself.

They’re a few bites into their meal when Victor clicks his tongue at him.

“Don’t be so awkward,” Victor chides and Yuri nearly stands up to scream at him. He glares daggers at him instead, loathing that Victor only continues to calmly eat. “You and I have gone to dinner before. just pretend it's like that.”

“It's not the same,” he says.

“Act like it is. Because right now you're not even fooling me. This performance is sloppy.”

“This isn't—”

“You have a performative act, Mr. Ice Tiger. Use it. Because if you can't use it in a situation where you need it, then you need to burn it down and build a new one,” Victor looks at him with cold eyes, and Yuri refuses to let himself shiver. 

“It’s not an act,” Yuri says a little petulant. 

“I've heard you say that since you were twelve. It's gotten old. Right now you look like a toothless clawless version of it. Aren’t you supposed to be strong and capable?” Victor says.

“You are such an ass,” Yuri says. It irritates him all the more because he understands what Victor is asking of him. 

“So what do you think about Maxim?” Victor asks, taking an appropriate small bite of his food so he can respond to Yuri without choking mid-chew. 

“He’s fine,” Yuri says. “And by fine I literally mean just that. We all knew that finding another coach after Yakov was going to be shitshow.” 

“I would have preferred that to the circus the rink turned into,” Victor says dryly and Yuri snorts a little. 

“Well, if you have just taken over for him, it probably would have gone smoother,” Yuri says, a little reluctant because Victor always takes praise right to that giant forehead of his and he doesn’t need to be anymore puffed up. 

“I don’t think so,” Victor says, smiling politely. “I maintain that Georgi would have been a better coach for the Juniors. Trying to find someone to handle Novices, Juniors, and Seniors the way Yakov did was a fool’s errand from the beginning and it hurt the younger ones the most. I’m surprised none of them quit skating entirely.” 

“Enough of them went to find other coaches,” Yuri pointed out. 

“Oh, did they?” Victor says, surprised. He shrugs. “They still come to me for choreography and to Georgi for costumes claiming they’re still there. 

“They’re lying to you,” Yuri says, a little irritated. He expects this kind of shit from Victor but not from Georgi, though he supposes it’s because Georgi would rather have their money and continued work. He’s popular now but he didn’t start that way and Yuri gets it.

Victor shrugs again and takes the last bite of his food. 

“I’ve been looking to limit the number of Juniors I take anyway. I prefer to choreograph for Seniors nowadays.” 

“You mean you like to make me suffer,” Yuri says without complaining. He’s usually the one pushing for Victor to make him the hardest choreography that he can imagine. 

“You do suffer so beautifully on the ice,” Victor says with a wink and Yuri mimes gagging. Victor’s face falls for a moment and he lowers his voice. “What are you doing?” 

“I don’t like that shit in public,” Yuri says with a glare. He can practically see the wheels turning in Victor’s head as he shifts his stupid plan in his head around. 

“So if I kiss you at the end of this date will you punch me right after?” Victor asks. 

“Probably,” Yuri answers immediately then he scowls. “I mean, uh, I probably shouldn’t do that, right? Can’t we get away without it? Maybe just on the cheek, but ugh, I don’t want to do that either.” 

Victor sighs and rubs at his head. 

“Please do keep in mind that we’re doing this for you.” 

“I know,” Yuri snaps. 

“And you know that a kiss is the best way to get a good headline, right?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I'll fucking kiss you. Don't look so goddamn pleased about it,” Yuri says at the way Victor smile lights up.

“It'll just make everything so much easier,” Victor says.

“You're just a pervert wants to kiss me,” Yuri grumbles, mostly for the sake of grumbling. He follows after Victor as he pays, burning a little at knowing how much it cost. 

His stomach churns, not from the excellent food, but because he doesn’t want to kiss Victor. But he’s already agreed to it. When Victor’s arm curls around his waist, he nearly jumps, but forces himself to ease into Victor. 

Yuri drops his voice. “I get why we're doing this for me. What do you get out of it?”

“My name in the limelight again,” Victor says.

It's an answer that Yuri nearly believes, one that he has thought up for himself, but he's not sure it's true for Victor. Victor has spent the years since his retirement quietly enjoying the fact that he is becoming more anonymous even as he bemoans the fact that he's being forgotten. Yuri doesn't understand it, but he doesn't expect too, especially since he's at the height of his career. Victor swinging wildly back and forth between two opposite thoughts is nothing new and it's been easy to write him off as being a drama queen.

“I don't think I believe you,” Yuri says.

“I don't really care what you believe, so long as you make this kiss look believable for the cameras,” Victor says, and Yuri trusts that.

Before Victor can move, Yuri takes the initiative to catch Victor’s lips, relieved when Victor responds back immediately. 

It's boring.

It's safe and Yuri feels absolutely nothing from it. Victor isn't trying to sneak his tongue in or eat his face. It's a very sterile kiss, fake, and manufactured.

There's a small part of him that's disappointed and he's not really sure why. But now he does believe, with all his heart, that Victor is serious about the charade. There's no hint of passion, nothing to indicate that Victor means anything other than this being a publicity stunt.

“I was expecting more from you,” Victor says once they pull away.

“Same here,” Yuri says, trying to hide the conflicting emotions he feels from showing on his face.

Victor's eyes flicker to the place where they saw the camera bulbs flash.

“As long as they believe it, and we're in the headlines tomorrow, we probably won't have to do it too many more times.”

“Good,” Yuri says. He wants to tear Victor’s hand away from his waist but instead he leaves it there. “Good.”

#

Yuri takes the next morning off to be with his publicist, who spends as much time gushing over Victor’s genius as she does throwing interview requests for approval at him. Seeing Victor is the last thing Yuri wants to do right now but he swallows his disgust and lets it sit in his stomach like a stone as he makes his way to the rink, knowing that Victor will be there like the early morning lunatic that he is. 

He loathes how correct Victor is, how he can feel the hunger at this story, and he’s spent the morning away from his twitter and social media to avoid seeing the deluge of questions and comments. The ten seconds he spent on it this morning when he woke up were too much and there’s no amount of coffee or cat cuddles that can help. 

Yuri tosses his backpack into his locker and debates grabbing his skates. He isn’t scheduled to be on the ice today even though his body is used to it, because he twisted his ankle the other day. Not bad enough to keep him from falling behind but enough that he’s going to spend a day or two off the ice. And it’s always tempting to piss off his coach but he’s got other shit to deal with today. Instead he goes to find Maxim who has a pair of skates in his hands and is giving them a critical look over. 

“You don’t have ice time today,” Maxim says. “Remember you’re supposed to be waiting for that sprain to heal?” 

“Anton is the one with the sprained ankle, not me,” Yuri says. “I’m the one with the stupid new boyfriend crap and your future two time Olympic Gold Medalist.” 

“His was a knee, yours is the ankle we were keeping an eye on.” Maxim says and he looks up from the skates to look at Yuri, who is distinctly not dressed for skating. “Oh, you’re not here for that.” 

“Good for you,” Yuri says. “Where’s Victor? I need to talk to him.”

“Victor is out for lunch. He’ll back in a half hour, he said,” Maxim tells him, turning to watch on Dmitri who is practicing an axel and salchow combination. Yuri doesn’t flinch when Dmitri falls nor when Maxim yells at him that he needs more speed.

“Ugh, now I have to wait for him. And his lunches take so long,” Yuri says, because they do. Victor runs into fans and he always stops to take photos and chat with them, because that’s all he knows how to do. 

Maxim makes a noise of agreement and Yuri huffs again. He can’t say anything against Victor, Russia’s darling, even though he hasn’t been in a competition in years. Maxim can’t even tell Yuri to shut up sometimes, not after the gold medal he got, which makes some coaches worthless to him. 

“No jumps but you can get on the ice to help some of the juniors?” Maxim offers, and Yuri gives him a look, though Maxim is determinedly keeping his eyes on the rink. 

“Guess I’ll be stuck here for a while. Might as well,” Yuri says. “It wasn’t a sprain so I’m fine to jump, by the way.” 

“I’d rather you didn’t.” 

Yuri shrugs and leaves him to get ready. No one can match up with Yakov and Yuri will always be a little pissed off at the universe that Yakov had to retire before Yuri. Still, it’s been a long road to find Maxim, who he at least tolerates and will occasionally give him useful feedback. 

The only Juniors here today that he finds worth working with are going to be his direct competition this coming year but even so they’re eons away from being threats. Yuri snaps at them to pay attention, smirking a little as they wobble and stop. 

He forgets to keep an eye on the time, working on drilling the two skaters, enjoying their dismay when he barks at them to repeat themselves. Maxim is watching them, probably letting Yuri be brutal so they’ll see Maxim as the more favorable coach. Yuri doesn’t particularly care; he’s not coach material and he doesn’t plan on that being his career goal. He wants to skate in ice shows for as long as possible and then he’ll decide what to do once his body is well and totally done with figure skating. 

It’s legitimately a surprise then when he looks up to see Victor watching him, finger pressed to his lips. Maxim is standing by him, arms crossed across his chest, looking irritated for once. Though that does tend to happen around Victor. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be on the ice today,” Victor says by way of greeting once Yuri finally makes his way over. 

“Fuck you,” Yuri says after a pause because he’s not sure how to act. They’re supposed to be boyfriends, but Yuri has never brought people he’s dated to the rink like this. He finally looks at the clock. “That was a long lunch, even for you.” 

“I had to take a phone call,” Victor says. He hands him his blade guards and gestures to the office. “Let’s go into Yakov’s office,” Victor says and Yuri doesn’t correct him, inwardly smirking when he sees Maxim’s lips tighten. He won’t say anything to Victor though and Yuri won’t bother to correct him because he honestly still thinks of it as Yakov’s office too. This is one thing he’ll grant Victor, airhead that he is, because it’s an old habit. 

Yuri changes quick and grabs his stuff, unsurprised to see Victor in Yakov’s old chair, sitting like he belongs there. It’s not the same now that the office has changed hands. The fear and dread it used to strike are gone, though Yuri likes to pretend with the juniors that you can still hear the screams from when it used to be Yakov’s office. 

“My publicist says to coordinate with you which couple pieces we want to do,” Yuri spits the second the door is closed. He pulls out the stack she had printed off and tosses it on the desk to Victor. 

Victor takes it, flicking it open with a carefless hand, and raises an eyebrow. 

“Wow. This is a lot.” 

“Yeah, now help me fucking pick or she’ll tear me a new one,” he says. “She’s hungry for this shit.” 

“So is everyone else, apparently,” Victor says. He pulls out his phone and sets it down beside the sheet. “Ooh, not this first one, they’re offering me a lot more than you for this.” 

“What?!” Yuri looks over and his mouth drops open. “Those assholes!” 

“Well, it’s not a surprise,” Victor says. Yuri nearly snarls at him but Victor shrugs. “It makes sense if they approach you to get a cheaper price than if they come to me, knowing that I’ll ask for something substantial.” 

“I don’t—” 

“We’ll pick the ones with the smallest difference. No one gets to mess around with my boyfriend like that,” Victor says and Yuri can almost believe that. He doesn’t say anything and Victor looks up at him. “Ah, was that too much?” 

“It’s weird,” Yuri says. He slouches into the chair more, well practiced at it. 

“We can still write it off as a drunk mistake,” Victor says and Yuri pauses, because that’s a huge concession to make after Victor has pushed so hard for this gambit. 

“Why?” Yuri asks carefully, trying not to let anything show on his face. What that anything is, he doesn’t know, but he knows to keep his cards close. 

“Because this requires you to be in it wholeheartedly,” Victor says. “There’s no point in doing it halfway, we’ll be caught out, and that backlash won’t be pretty. You’ve avoided a lot of relationship drama and that’s why people are hungry to hear about this one. But it goes both ways, that interest.” 

“I can fake it,” Yuri protests. 

“Of course you can. We’re both faking it. But this is a long term plot. We’re going to slip up but we need those mistakes to be small and easily shrugged off. That won’t happen if you’re doing this whole thing,” Victor says, gesturing to Yuri. 

“What thing?” Yuri snaps. 

“The Yuri Plisetsky thing, where you hate something so much you can’t hide it. That thing that makes you ‘real’ and ‘authentic’.” Victor says. 

Yuri grumbles and ducks his chin. It’s true that it’s part of his persona and brand. Yuri Plisetsky doesn’t deal with bullshit well and this whole gambit reeks of it. But it’s been one kiss and he’s gotten more interest from that than he has in years. Winning an Olympic gold apparently isn’t as interesting as being kissed by Victor Nikiforov. 

“So what, you want me hanging all over you, slobbering like an idiot?” Yuri asks. 

“That’s not you either. Just act like you normally do with your partners. And don’t jump when I hug or kiss you. I won’t kiss you on the lips anymore than we agree to but I’ll probably kiss your cheek and stuff so that we look appropriately in love,” Victor says. 

“Okay,” he says. “When are we supposed to break up again?” 

“If you find someone else we can break up then. If not then by next summer. Next year will be all about pre-Olympic news so you won’t need me for that,” Victor says. 

That means a whole year of pretending to date Victor. But he’s still competing and training and once the season starts in earnest, he probably won’t have to deal with him too much. Victor can probably do more ‘dates’ at his house, where they can just take a few pictures and then Yuri can relax. 

“Okay,” Yuri says again, standing up with his back straight. “That sounds...doable.” 

“Tell your publicist I’ll call her later this afternoon by four, because my publicist and I need to decide on my solo interviews,” Victor says, getting up as well. He claps a hand on his shoulder and he hasn’t made any movement yet but Yuri can feel it in his gut that he’s going to kiss him.

Yuri shrugs his hand off, grabs his shoulder and presses a kiss to Victor’s mouth. It’s more sloppy teeth than an actual kiss but he feels the gaze of the other skaters in the rink so he’s accomplished his goal if nothing else. Yuri pulls away and Victor looks confused, but it only lasts for a moment. 

“I’ll text you later,” Yuri says. 

Victor smiles at him and Yuri stomps away, determinedly ignoring everyone. It’s not like anyone here will ask him what just happened anyway. 

#

“What you doing here old man?” Yuri asks when he sees Victor walking to the rink later the next week. 

It’s been relatively calm now that they’re settling into this fake dating thing. They’ve gone out twice for dinner, low key like Victor promised that are excellent social media plugs but they’ve got a nicer, more paparazzi friendly date set up for next Saturday. 

“Barb's are like kisses from you, darling,” Victor says and Yuri gives him a hug, because there are eyes everywhere, and at least he's well-known for hating public displays of affection. He’s not going to kiss Victor anymore than he has to, dammit all. “I'm actually not here for you at all. Maxim wants me to watch one of the novices; he says he has real potential. And then I stopped by to visit Georgi and he has a new catalog out so I brought a few copies over for the skaters here.”

“Isn't he booked for a whole year?” Yuri asks. He can get a costume made from Georgi without a fuss because they were rinkmakes before, but he's pretty sure the last person he recommended Georgi to came back to complain to him about the waitlist. He's a popular costume designer because he'll take risks.

“He hired a new girl so he's got a few openings. But he really wants Juniors this time around, says that he's tired of designing for adults. The last couple he got were all boring and black or something.”

“Sucks for him,” Yuri says. They’ve already been talking about how they can incorporate a long cape into Yuri’s costume without hurting his jumps and Georgi has been texting him ideas, most of which look utterly ridiculous. It’s for his exhibition skate though so he’s not stressing about it yet. 

Victor chuckles as he leaves, placing himself in the stands with a notepad and a pair of glasses that Yuri rarely sees him wear. It makes him look older but in a dignified way, and Yuri hates that he thinks it looks good on Victor. 

Instead of calling him an old man Yuri returns to learning his choreography on the ice. His short program is from a new choreographer, some French dude who was a pair skater, but Maxim said he had a good eye for singles programs. 

He's distracted from training and he knows it, but his eyes keep following Victor as he pops in and out of his sight. Victor is too big to belong to one person; he belongs to the skating world, and Yuri has been hogging up a lot of his time with this fake dating thing. It's a weird thing to realize because he can still remember a younger Victor, who had the time to play with a little Junior and take him out for ice cream for no reason other than that would piss their coach off. Victor doesn't have that time anymore.

And if he’s honest with himself he doesn’t have that time now. He can’t see himself taking any of the juniors under his wing like Victor did for him. 

Yuri hears Victor laughing, and something in his stomach twists at that sound, because he can tell it’s one of Victor’s fake laughs. He can’t help looking up to see Victor talking with one of the other senior boys, smiling at him and with a hand on his arm. 

He’s not a skater that Victor would ever pay attention to, his style bulky and lumbering, entirely too full of himself and obnoxiously loud about how he’s going to be the best when he can’t even medal at Nationals. Which makes Yuri wonder why Victor is engaging with him now when he wouldn’t have done it at his peak. Maybe he’s that desperate for attention, which is disgusting, but Yuri could understand that. Victor has always been an attention whore. 

Yuri runs through his short program one last time, marking the jumps except for the last triple axel, smirking as he lands it with ease. This newer batch of skaters focus on quads so much they’ve neglected their axels but Yuri can still pull it off without a struggle, and it’s one of his strong points in this new field. 

He’s not surprised to see Victor watching him, though his irritation grows as Victor claps a few times. Yuri steps off the ice and sits down to clean his blades off.

“What do you want?” Yuri snaps. 

“Saying bye to my boyfriend, of course,” Victor says. He glances at the time on his phone. “I have to do some research for this next piece I’m choreographing for so I need to visit the library and see if the books I requested have come in yet.” 

“Research? For ice skating?” Yuri asks, pulling a face. 

“I want the story behind the skate to ring true,” Victor says so earnestly that Yuri holds back his laugh. He’s choreographed a few of his own pieces but he’s never had to go to a library to study history for it. It doesn’t really make a lot of sense to him but Victor’s always been ridiculous. 

“Okay, nerd, go study.” 

“Your rinkmate, uh, I think his name was Dimitri, he’s very kind! He says his sister works at one of the palaces and she’d be willing to give me a private tour.” 

“Oh gross, you were flirting,” Yuri says.

“Not really. It’ll be valuable to actually see the inside of the palace. Apparently parts of it are closed to the public,” Victor says absently. Then his expression turns sly and Yuri regrets everything. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Don't say gross shit,” Yuri snaps. 

Victor smirks for a moment but then loses the expression. 

“Is that your new short program that you were practicing out there?” Victor asks. 

“Yeah?” Yuri says. 

“It looked good,” Victor says. 

“But?” Yuri says. 

Victor blinks. 

“But nothing? It looks good, it fits you.”

“I’m still learning it,” Yuri says. 

“Yes, you are? I’m not saying anything bad,” Victor says, confused. “I was complimenting you. As a skater, not as anything else.” 

That makes Yuri stop, because he was expecting Victor to say ‘as a boyfriend’. 

“Thanks, then,” Yuri says, unsure of what else to say. Victor huffs. 

“Just say that next time,” Victor says and with a little waggle of his fingers (which is not cute for his age, Yuri refuses to let himself think that), he’s gone. 

Yuri is done with screaming as he does quad salchows but the temptation is there. He settles for a cool down skate, kicking up enough ice that Maxim snaps at him to watch out for the juniors around him. 

Victor is so damn annoying. 

#

Yuri glares at the door. It’s nine thirty at night, and he was enjoying a comfortable Wednesday in his bed. He opens it, unsurprised to see Victor on his doorstep, because of course it would be Victor fucking up his night.

They have a coffee date planned for tomorrow as an early lunch, but it’s going to be all for show, since Yuri has his off ice training at one and Victor apparently got his private tour of whatever stupid castle he wanted to go see. 

“Date night!” Victor calls out cheerily. He's already taking his shoes off, totally at ease in Yuri’s home. 

Usually Yuri has to fight his cats off but they’re hanging out in his room, probably pissed off by the amount of ‘dog’ that Victor radiates, even if Victor hasn’t had a dog in years. 

“We don't have a date night,” Yuri snaps. “And we definitely don't have one here at my house.”

“Your place was closer, and the cabs were taking too long,” Victor says, but Yuri doesn't really smell any alcohol on him. 

“I guess at least you're not stupid enough to drive drunk,” Yuri says reluctantly. “You're taking the couch.”

“But my back!” Victor protest and laughs about something. Yuri doesn't want to know. He grunts a little and goes back to playing his video game. Victor goes to sit by him, watching, without understanding. Victor doesn't know video games because he's lame like that. 

“You sitting and watching over my shoulder is not helping me concentrate,” Yuri says, holding his handheld device away from Victor's eyes.

“So secretive,” Victor says. He shrugs his jacket off and relaxes on the other side of the couch. “It's fine. I just need a place to stay the night. I was joking about it being a date night.” 

“Dumb joke.”

“Yeah, it was. I already know you hate this whole fake dating thing.” Victor put his hands to his forehead. “Drunk me makes bad jokes, I guess.”

“You always make bad jokes in general. I don't know how people ever thought you were charming and funny or whatever.”

“Maybe I used to be better at it,” Victor says, but there’s no conviction in his voice. He just seems really tired tonight. It makes Yuri take pity on him, and he doesn't say anything else. 

They sit in silence for a while until Yuri decides it’s time to turn in. He gets up carefully, unsure if Victor is awake or asleep. When he doesn’t move Yuri assumes he’s out and goes to turn off the lights. 

“Do you have an extra blanket?” Victor asks as Yuri fills the cats’ water bowl for the night. 

“Crap,” Yuri says, spilling a bit of the water. He grabs a handful of paper towels to clean it up and then looks up to see Victor watching him with a tired expression. “Yeah, I can grab you one.” 

“Thanks,” Victor murmurs and rolls back to face the couch. 

He reminds Yuri of a wet cat somehow and he goes over to poke at Victor’s head. 

“Get up. You’re sleeping in my bed with me.”

“Just leave me here,” Victor says, and almost any other day Yuri would say that he’s being dramatic. But Victor has his forearm over his eyes and it doesn’t feel like his usual dramatics. 

“You’re not sleeping on the damn couch,” Yuri says. 

“I don’t have extra clothes,” Victor says. 

“Borrow some of mine. I’ve got some old stuff lying around. Come on, get up,” Yuri says, poking him again, this time in between his shoulder blades. 

Victor sighs but goes to the bathroom, coming back in his undershirt and the shorts he borrowed from Yuri. Yuri’s stomach twists at seeing Victor, something vulnerable in this tired state of his. He’s seen Victor exhausted and pushed past that while traveling and competing. But he hasn’t seen anything like this before. 

Yuri keeps his eyes on his phone and Victor gets into his bed, closing his eyes and seeming to not notice any awkwardness or the way Yuri is carefully tensed to his side of his bed. It isn’t until Yuri shuts his phone off and turns the light off that Victor moves, a tiny shift that Yuri feels more than sees in the dark. 

“This was a bad idea,” Victor murmurs. 

“Yeah, if you kick me in the middle of the night, I’m pushing you off,” Yuri says but Victor shakes his head. 

“This whole thing,” he says and Yuri realizes what he means. “You hate it. And you have to deal with me the whole time. I know you’d rather focus on your skating.” 

Victor is looking up at the ceiling, and Yuri swallows something at how still and composed he looks, his gaze far away, and Yuri has the strangest sensation that Victor isn’t here but somewhere else. 

“It’s weird,” Yuri says, his voice rough, as if that could ground Victor somehow. “But it’s working. People are interested in me again. I forgot how it felt to have so many eyes on me.” 

Victor gives a hum as an answer but that’s not enough to satisfy Yuri. He reaches over and lays a firm hand on Victor’s shoulder; Victor jerks and finally looks at him again. 

“Thanks,” Yuri mutters. 

Victor blinks a few times then huffs a little, mostly laughing. 

“So you can put up with me for a while more? That’s good to know.” 

“Yeah,” Yuri says after a few moments of painful silence. There’s something wrong about what Victor said but Yuri can’t figure it out. 

Victor says nothing more, but his face is turned away, and Yuri can’t bring himself to ask if he’s sleeping or awake. Yuri rolls over and falls asleep to wondering what the hell Victor was actually talking about. 

#

“This isn’t our first couples’ interview so I don’t understand why you’re so nervous,” Victor says as he picks a hair off Yuri’s jacket. 

“Bite me,” Yuri says, unable to think of anything clever. His scowl deepens as Victor gives him a fond, indulgent look. He knows that expression because it’s the one he gives his cats when they’re being assholes and fighting the inevitable, like taking a bath after getting into the trash. 

The whole room is deliberately cozy but he can’t bring himself to relax. It’s all so fake and today it grates at Yuri. This isn’t him. And he’s pretty sure this isn’t Victor either, despite how comfortable Victor seems to be. 

Yuri lets Victor greet the reporter for them both as he tries to settle down. He can’t even explain what he’s so wound up about other than he still has no explanation for what happened last week when Victor came over. In true Victor fashion he hasn’t mentioned anything about it other than a quick thanks for letting him stay the night. 

But Yuri’s not a fool. Something was different and it’s driving him crazy as he turns the night over in his head, trying to figure it out still. 

“He’s had a rough training morning,” Victor says and Yuri snaps back to the current conversation. “It’s not easy becoming a future two time Olympian.” 

“If you did it so can I. Don’t baby me,” Yuri says, and this part is true enough. Yuri is the skater who will surpass Victor. 

“Is that both of your goals?” The interviewer asks as Victor gives a delighted laugh. “To win Olympic golds back to back?

“Victor is the best so of course beating him is my goal,” Yuri explains. “But it’s not just about him. I want to be the best. What’s the term in English that they use? It’s an animal, right?” 

“GOAT,” Victor supplies then bleats, as if Yuri doesn’t know what the hell a goat is. 

“Stop it. Yeah, that thing,” Yuri says. He doesn’t hesitate to nudge Victor, rough enough to make him shift on the couch. 

“You’ve been training together since Yuri was starting out as a figure skater, right? It’s easy to see how comfortable you are with one another,” the interviewer says. 

“No, it wasn’t until Yuri was a little older, I think when you officially moved up to Juniors? I don’t remember; that was a long time ago,” Victor says, one arm over the back of the couch. “I was more focused on my own skating back then. It wasn’t until I had retired and come back to work with other skaters that Yuri and I really got to connect with one another.” 

That’s not entirely true. But they discussed this because of their difference in age and how long they had known one another. 

“It’s clear to see your influence on his skating but he’s not the only one. You inspired a whole generation of children to take up skating. What do you think—?” 

“He’s still inspiring,” Yuri interrupts. “I see him train other skaters and it’s still inspiring to watch him. No one else can skate like Victor, he’s the only one, and all these new skatings trying to mimic him are just weak imitations.” 

They both blink at him, and Victor’s mouth is hanging open a little. 

“I can’t deny his influence on my skating but I wouldn’t want to anyway. When people say I’m copying him, yeah, that’s irritating. I skate my own way, with my own strength, but you can’t ever skate entirely on your own, you know? You’re on the ice by yourself but it takes so much work from so many people around you to get to that point. And Victor is one of the people who has always supported me. He is an amazing skater and I’ve learned a lot from him,” Yuri says. “Even now, I’m still learning a lot from him.”

Yuri crosses his arms and then realizes how much he spewed out, and how little of it was even remotely relevant to the question asked. 

“Um. Yeah,” he says and slinks back into the couch as much as possible. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply anything bad about Victor,” the interviewer stutters, more than a little confused. 

“No, no, Yura is protective over those he cares about,” Victor says. That’s true and Yuri huffs a little, because it’s gross to be so sentimental. 

He keeps the rest of his answers short and to the point for the rest of the interview, and he’s dreading what Victor is going to say. But he doesn’t bring it up until they’re back at Victor’s apartment, grabbing lunch and their belongings before they’re supposed to return to the rink. 

“You don’t normally talk like that during interviews,” Victor says softly as he finishes eating. He’s not making eye contact with him, determinedly turned away, and that irritates Yuri. The Victor he knows is not a coward. 

“I don’t lie,” Yuri says. He shoves his plate away, irritated that Victor waited until he was in the safety of his own home to bring this up. 

“I didn’t say you were lying,” Victor says, turning to look at him in surprise. “That’s why I’m wondering what you meant by it.” 

Yuri swallows. 

“I was serious.” 

“Oh,” Victor says. He gets up and dumps his plate into the sink, standing there for a moment, staring out at nothing. “I didn’t know...I don’t know what to say.” 

“Something other than that, maybe,” Yuri says. 

“This wasn’t my plan. I didn’t mean to…” Victor stops again, struggling with what to say. His hands are gripping the countertop and Yuri understands without needing to hear it from him. 

“You like me too,” he says, unable to say the other word. 

“How could I not?” Victor murmurs. He comes back to the table and reaches over, as if to tuck a stray hair behind Yuri’s ear, something he’s done countless times before. But this time he stops himself. “You’re so beautiful and strong. There’s no one else like you, Yuri. How could anyone not fall in love with you?” 

Yuri’s heart is pounding but he stands up all the same, cupping Victor’s face with one hand, moving slow so that Victor can protest at any point. But he doesn’t; he leans into his touch, moulding himself to Yuri, and leans up to accept the kiss Yuri is offering. 

There’s no one around, no photographers trying to get the perfect angle or catch their face, no filters and hashtags. It’s just the two of them and somehow that makes all the difference. Yuri is full, warm, and he can feel this kiss throughout his whole body. 

They break apart and Yuri brushes his thumb over Victor’s cheek, drinking in how bright his eyes are and how wet his lips are. 

“That’s... I think... that’s what I was expecting the first time we kissed,” Yuri murmurs. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” Victor says and kisses him again. 

It’s better this time, and they make their way to the couch for more lazy kisses. Yuri loses track of time while he’s in Victor’s embrace but at some point they stop and just hold one another. Victor is between the couch and Yuri, looking very comfortable and warm. 

“Maybe this is my last hurrah,” Victor says as he curls into Yuri’s arms further. “Pushing you to the absolute top so that you can topple me over.”

“I don't think it'll happen that way,” Yuri says. “I don’t need you for that. I have a coach and choreographers, and a whole shitton of people who are working with me to do that.”

“So you don’t need me at all then,” Victor says with a dry laugh. It sounds more like a cry. 

Yuri licks his lips. 

“I don’t need you,” he says. “But I want you here.” 

“For how long?” Victor asks. 

Yuri kisses his forehead and Victor sighs, pleased, so Yuri feels no fear as he tells him, “You’re mine now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, kudos, and lurkers are all appreciated <3


End file.
